


An Icy Death Becomes Me

by Katlyn1948



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Arya is a Werewolf, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, Gendry is a hunter...or used to be, Other, Werewolves, based on artwork, there is enough context to figure out what is going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlyn1948/pseuds/Katlyn1948
Summary: Gendry wanders the northern wilderness, only to reunite with someone he thought dead.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	An Icy Death Becomes Me

**Author's Note:**

> So I couldn't help myself...I REALLY wanted to write this and it was itching at my head all night and all day...soooo...I wrote it! It is based of a lovey piece of Gendrya art work by @sabrinart19 on Tumblr. It is a seriously good piece, so please please please go check it out! Anyway, I really hope I did it justice!

The icy chill in the air had numbed his senses long before he stepped out into the cold abyss. The blanket of white snow was never ending as he gazed upon the horizon. He was sure that he would die out there, his body left to freeze in time. It was rather poetic, how his life could end yet he could still be perfectly preserved as if just merely sleeping. Perhaps it was morbid to think, but when one was look death in the face nothing was improper.

He couldn’t remember when he stopped feeling his legs, but it was a welcome distraction to the never-ending ocean of white that stood before him. He was stupid to think that this trek in high snow would be easy, yet he hadn’t accounted how difficult it would actually be. When he decided to venture out in the Northern Wilderness, it was wasn’t by choice, but rather a matter of life or death.

He had gotten himself into a rather precarious situation, one that cost him nearly five years of his life. An idiot he was to choose the wrong people over the one person he could trust the most. It was a choice he regretted ever since. If he would have gone with her, perhaps she would still be alive, safe within his arms and not sliced beyond recognition.

The fucked-up part about it, he had to hear about her death from the very people who hunted her; the very people he had traveled with.

He had known her secret; she had entrusted it with him, and he would have gladly kept it to the grave. But when they were captured and he tried to pass her secret off as his, and he was staring a sword in the face, she barked out that it was she they were looking for.

The wolf that had left a path of destruction.

_I’m the one! I’m the one you want! Not him!_

Her words echoed through his head as he continued his path through the dense trees. He wished he could stop thinking about her, but every moment he could, his mind would drift to her. He would remember her eyes and the way they shone with she smiled. Or her laugh and the way it would light up a room. His heart ached for her, even in the five years it had been, he longed or her.

_You’re stupid! You should have gone with her! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

He cursed himself; hated himself for what he did. He swore to himself that his decision was fueled to protect her, to keep them away from her. At first it worked, he was able to sway their advances against her and lead them to other vulnerable beings.

For three years he had given The Brotherhood other unsuspecting werewolves to hunt.

He knew what he was doing was wrong; every bone in his body screamed at him to stop this hunt, but knowing she was still out there only fueled his eagerness to keep her safe. But when they brought a head of a grey wolf with grey eyes, he knew that he had failed his mission.

He should have left then, but his anger ignited a rage within him he hadn’t known possible and he made a new mission, one to kill the men who killed her. Two years he tired to infiltrate The Brotherhood, but his effort was moot and now he was running for survival. They had discovered his plan and were taking him to an undisclosed location to kill him. A rouse to walk him into the woods and shoot arrows into his body, disguising it as a hunt.

But he’d be stupid not to know of their plans and decided to run before they had a chance to escort him to his death.

Leaving in the dead of night, he ventured into the Northern cold with no plan, no food, and no way out.

Perhaps this was his punishment sent to him by God for not protecting her when he should have; his eternal hell for letting all those innocent people die at the hands of The Brotherhood.

He chuckled at the thought, for he always believed hell to be a pit of fire, not an endless winter.

Pulling his cloak tighter around his frigid body, he continued his journey through the endless wasteland. He pushed and pulled his way through the snow, nearly keeling over with exhaustion. He was on his last stretch; he could feel it. His body was wasting away with every step he took. His lungs were tight and taking a breath felt like knives being stabbed within. It was excruciating and he couldn’t help but lean on a nearby tree for support.

He tried to ease his breathing, taking in deep shallow breaths in order to keep the pain subtle.

There was no water, no food, nothing to keep him warm but the cloak on his back. His only saving hope was that the cold would take him and end his misery. He took several more breaths before pulling his body upright, ready to continue on his suicide mission. He lulled one foot to crunch through the thick snow when a soft growl startled his already fragile body. His gaze shot up to meet the golden eyes of a spotted leopard.

His breath caught and he felt his heartbeat pound within his chest.

This was the way he was to die; not by the cold but by a leopard ready to take its pound of flesh. Its hot breath steamed through the cold air and the blood around its mouth was an indication that it had already had its fill.

He backed slowly, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stumbled through the high snow. The leopard inched closer to him, its eyes locked on him as its back began to arch, ready to pounce. He tried to close his eyes, to keep from looking death in the face, but his body would not let him. He was transfixed on the leopard, knowing that it would be the last thing he saw on this earth.

He took a deep breath, preparing to meet death when something caught the corner of his eye. It was large in stature, much larger than the leopard before him. It moved slow at first, before launching itself towards the leopard, pouncing on it’s back in a flash. It moved so fast, that if he blinked, he would have missed the whole ordeal.

He recognized that it was a large wolf that had taken the leopard, sinking its thick canines into the leopard’s soft flesh. He could hear the leopard cry in pain, trying to fight its way out of the wolf’s jaws, but the leopard could not shake the wolf and its whimpers began to soften until there was only silence.

He watched as the wolf released its clenched jaws from the dead leopard and pulled its gray eyes to meet his. He swallowed hard as he took in the creature. It was bigger than any wolf he had even encountered, even larger than the werewolves he used to hunt. The muscles in its hind legs pierced through its tough skin, showing its strength. He marveled at the beast, and unlike with the leopard, found an ease to its company.

He should have fled, but he found himself inching closer to the wolf. He wanted to feel the soft fur beneath his hands and its warmth it was sure to offer. Because that’s all he really wanted; to feel warm and secure.

His hand laid outstretched to grasp the wolf when it suddenly back away. He gasped at its sudden movement and even more so as the wolf began to shift. Its bones began to reshape before his eyes and the loud snaps of a shifting body echoed through the dense forest.

He had only ever seen a werewolf turn once in his life when he was shocked to his core by the woman, he had travelled with all those years ago. That was her secret; a secret he would have died for.

His eyes gazed upon the woman in front of him now.

He could scarcely believe was he was seeing. Those piercing gray eyes he though he would never see again. It was her who was in front of him, standing naked in the dense winter. The blood from the leopard covered her face and her hair fell in tendrils around her head. She looked the same, aside from the tiny scars she had acquired around her body. She was no longer the delicate cub he had looked out for, but rather a fierce woman capable of defending herself.

He blinked a few times, not truly believing his eyes; almost as if it was a figment of his dying imagination.

She couldn’t be real, could she?

“Arya?” he heard himself whisper.

A smile pulled at her lips, “Hello, Gendry.”


End file.
